No good Deed Goes Unpunished
by AngieT
Summary: Frodo meets his match.


It has oft been said that Frodo Baggins was a caring and sensitive young hobbit. It has also been said that he was the worst young rascal at Brandy Hall. His mushroom thieving, apple scrumping, cherry knocking, laundry stealing, pig dressing, pie purloining, cow tipping, and sheep worrying were also legendary. During his time at Brandy Hall no fresh batch of preserves went unsampled, no lasses plaits went unpulled or undipped in ink wells, and the amount of spiders, worms, and earwigs that turned up down the back of blouses was simply phenomenal. No cook worth her salt would venture into the kitchen without checking above the door for a sack of flour and no Gaffer or Gammer would ever go to bed without checking for pinecones, and how the chickens could be got to lay was past belief.

Though all of this was true it also had to be said that no prank was malicious or harmed anyone and most of them were quite funny – even if only to be laughed at behind closed doors. Still Frodo had caused a smials worth of trouble and earnt himself more spankings, bed without supper, extra chores and other fit punishments than all the other tweens, and pretweens at the Hall in several summers.

It now must also be pointed out that it looked as thought he had finally met his match.

Frodo looked down at his little cousin Pippin and wondered how on earth the child managed it.

Pippin looked back up and smiled beautifully, green eyes peeking up from beneath cinnamon curls and a wide, gap toothed smile all over his face. There was not a spark of malice anywhere about the child but trouble did seemed to find him. Pip was just so… lively. He lived life at a tremendous pace and no one could keep up with him. Like summer lightning he struck at one point and was gone before you could blink and the only thing you could do was follow the trail of destruction.

Frodo had come to Tuckborough for Pearl's birthday party. Since he had been living with Bilbo in Hobbiton Frodo was now considered quite the respectable hobbit and a perfect match for one of the Took cousins. So he had been invited a few days early. All too aware of this – as were the lasses – and lovely though they were – Frodo was doing a fair dance of avoiding entanglements. Not that he had anything against the fair sex but he did rather resent them, and their bosoms, being shoved in his face at every opportunity. Though separated by gaps in their ages they all seemed to be simultaneously going through a simpering and silly phase. You could not talk to them about anything other than hair ribbons and lace, and some other items of female apparel that Frodo had no ideas even what they were and so did not want to fall into any potentially embarrassing conversations. He did try engaging Pearl on the subject of romantic poetry but found her ideas of romantic poetry vastly differed from his. He preferred Elvish compositions of heroes and maidens; she preferred vapid verse solely concerned with flowers and stable lads who turned out to be princes under enchantments.

As Bilbo had opted not to accompany his heir Frodo found himself stranded and in a female dominated world waiting for Merry or Fatty to turn up and save him.

Quite by accident, on the afternoon of the party, ducking into a room to avoid a gaggle of females, Frodo had found himself in the little nursery, which was Pippin's current dominion. Frodo had only encountered the heir to the Thainship at mealtimes when, nicely washed and dressed and smelling of talcum powder Pip had been paraded in to say a goodnight to his parents and their guests. Frodo had thought the child unusually pretty with his clear green eyes, his little quirk of a mouth and his long cinnamon coloured curls. Frodo liked children, generally. He had made quite a pet of the Gamgee's youngest in Hobbiton and was helping Bilbo to teach little Samwise to read. Sam was a solid, beautifully behaved child who hung on Frodo's every word and was always ready to play whatever game Frodo could think of. It looked like Pippin might be such another once he had grown a bit.

At this moment though the nursery was in rather a state of disorder and in the middle of it the nursemaid sat, crying into her apron.

"Hullo," said Frodo. "Are you all right?"

The lass looked up and sniffed. Seeing whom it was, she got to her feet and bobbed a curtsey. Pippin, sitting on the carpet, waved a stuffed pony at Frodo.

Frodo came forwards.

"I'm so sorry, Sir," the lass flushed. "Truth is I have a terrible headache today and Master Pip won't settle for his nap."

The lass did indeed look rather pale. "You should go see the healer," Frodo advised.

"I will Sir, as soon as I get the young Master settled."

Pippin cooed and waved his arms to Frodo.

"Well," said Frodo, suddenly coming over all responsible adult. "Why don't you run along and see the healer now, and maybe have a lie down. Master Pippin and I can entertain each other until the party. In fact," said Frodo, quite proud of himself. "Why don't I take Pip to the party?"

The maid looked totally amazed at this unlooked for suggestion; in fact her eyes opened very wide, as did her mouth. "But Sir…."

"Go along," said Frodo, sitting himself on the mat. "I can certainly handle a baby for a few hours. What could possibly happen?"

"His suit is set out on the press," said the lass and then was gone as though afraid Frodo would change his mind.

"There now," said Frodo. "As if I can't look after my little cousin for a few hours. You'll have your nap and then we'll get changed and you can look in on the party for a bit before bedtime. How does that sound?"

From Pippin's delighted gurgle it obviously sounded quite acceptable.

Frodo looked round the room. In one corner was a little bed shaped like a sledge, hanging over it was a mobile of brightly coloured kites, which twisted in the breeze from the small window. Against one wall was an old toy chest, lid thrown open to reveal various paraphernalia of toys, building blocks, balls, tops, hoops, and all the other necessities of a small hobbit. At another wall was the press, upon which were laid out a miniature pair of breeches, shirt and waistcoat – complete with braces. Frodo smiled as he looked at these things. It reminded him of Brandy Hall days when he had helped out with Merry. Of course Merry had been quite the rapscallion. He had screamed blue murder at bath time and had been known to run all around the Hall in naught but his skin until he could be caught. He had refused his bedtimes and always came up with ploys for 'just one more story'. He was also passionately concerned with all things edible – and quite a few which the grown-ups considered were not – from a very early age. Pippin was much better behaved.

His eyes alit upon the small shelf of books and toys. "How about a nap time story?" he suggested getting up to pull down a book of nursery rhymes.

"Nap!" pronounced Pippin decidedly.

Frodo reached down and picked Pippin up. The toddler was quite a solid weight in his arms, plump and a bit wriggly and Frodo gave him a little squeeze. "You and I are going to be great friends." Frodo sat on the rug once more, his back to the press and settled the hobbit in his lap. Together they turned over the pages of the book until Frodo came to a rhyme he remembered being particularly fond of and started to read.

"He did what?" Merry asked in total amazement.

Nell shrugged. "Blossom said Frodo had told her to lie down and he would look after Pip."

"Pip?" Merry repeated. "Frodo?" He scratched his head. "Are we talking about the same people?"

Nell was tapping her foot impatiently. Merry and his family had only just arrived for the evening's party but she was impatient to get on with getting ready herself. Her hair was not sitting quite the way it should do and she was trying to borrow some combs, preferably the silver ones, from Pearl.

"Frodo said he was perfectly capable of babysitting Pip until the party," Nell told Merry in her most grown-up voice.

"And didn't any one WARN him?" Merry asked.

"Warn him about what?" asked Fatty who had also only just arrived.

"You'll see," warned Merry ominously. "You'll see!"

Actually Fatty did not see, not for some time. The nursery, when they arrived, seemed to be clouded over with some sweet scented mist of some sort – out of which came giggling noises, and … yes… swearing.

"Frodo?" Merry coughed slightly. "Are you in there?"

"Yes," came back Frodo's voice, punctuated with a cough of his own. "Come and get me out."

The powder was settling somewhat and Merry and Fatty could make out Frodo sitting on the nursery rug. But it was not the Frodo they were used to seeing. Instead of the immaculately dressed heir to Bag End here was a totally different Frodo. For a start his hair, that of his head and feet, was sticking right up on end for the most part, his waistcoat, which was usually a beautifully tailored thing of intricate embroidery and silver buttons, seemed to have an unpleasant yellow stain upon it which smelt rather bad, Merry noticed when he got nearer. His usually immaculately brushed velvet trousers had a nasty wet patch over them, and the whole edifice was covered in a light dusting of what appeared to be baby powder.

Delightedly sitting on the rug next to Frodo was a naked Pippin, sucking on one of his toes and giggling.

"What happened?" asked Fatty in awe.

"Don't ask!" were Frodo's final words on the matter. "Just.. Just… help me!"

It took quite a bit of help to get both Frodo and Pippin respectable for the party and what the maid would say when she saw the nursery none of them dared to think. The party was already underway when the three hobbits and Pippin arrived at it. If Frodo had thought he could pass Pippin on to someone else he was sadly mistaken. Hobbits had a habit of disappearing, remembering dance appointments, drinks they were fetching for others, plates to fill for partners when Frodo came near to broaching the subject. The parents of the said toddler, who should have been relied upon to reclaim their offspring, were miraculously nowhere to be seen.

Frodo sat at the end of one table, still sneezing occasionally, and watched the dancing with Pippin on his lap. He was hoping Pip would get tired soon. He had missed his afternoon nap but was still showing no signs of sleepiness. He sat bouncing on Frodo's knee, cooing and waving his arms around. Frodo found the simplest thing to do was to keep a plate of small food items to hand and whenever Pip showed signs of wanting to get off his lap Frodo would feed him a titbit. Frodo also kept another lesson from earlier in mind and kept Pippin facing AWAY from him should the food decide to make a reappearance.

All in all Frodo was feeling totally worn out and weary. His only solace was a pitcher of ale he seemed to have all to himself at this end of the table and he was steadily working his way through it. He nodded his head in time to the music. On the grass before him hobbits whirled and danced together, whirled and danced, forming patterns and breaking to form other ones in a steady rhythm of feet and drum. This was all quite pleasant really.

"Frodo!"

"Wh….at!" Frodo woke with a start.

"Where's Pippin?" It was Nell, standing before Frodo and yelling far too loudly in the opinion of Frodo's headache. Blast that ale!

"What?" Frodo jerked upright from his prone position, half off the bench and leaning against the table. "Pippin. He's here." Frodo wildly searched his own lap. The lad had been here a moment ago… before Frodo had fallen asleep in a pleasantly tipsy state.

"You got drunk while you were meant to be minding the baby?"

"I did not!" Frodo protested. Really, Nell was only 13, but she did sound dreadfully like his Aunt Esmeralda.

"Then where is he?"

Frodo looked frantically about him. On the table was the now strangely empty pitcher of ale and the remains of a plate full of food; the rest of the bench was empty.

With sudden inspiration, if not forethought, as the motion nearly cost Frodo the contents of his stomach, he bent to peer under the table. "Here he is!"

"Honestly!" Nell ducked under the table to retrieve her baby brother who had been happily digging in the dirt under the table and then looked to have fallen asleep in a face full of it. The little Took was completely covered in mud and grass. Nell held him at arms length and looked as though she would like to finish the digging herself, until it made a large enough hole to bury Frodo in. Frodo was inclined to offer his help with the funeral arrangements. His head was pounding dreadfully, he felt dizzy and very, very guilty.

"I am sorry," he tried to make amends but Nell was having none of it. She swept off with never a backward glance. Over her retreating shoulder Frodo could see Pippin, grinning brightly and waving his grubby fist in farewell to his cousin. Frodo found a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and he raised his hand to wave back.

Alone again Frodo sank back down onto the bench and groaned. He might as well go to bed now, so he could pack early in the morning and be away before the household woke.

"Frodo! There you are, and I thought you had been hiding from me, you naughty lad!"

Frodo climbed to his feet.

"Happy Birthday Pearl," said Frodo bowing graciously and taking her hand to kiss. "You are quite the most beautiful creature in all of Middle-earth."

"Cousin Frodo," simpered Pearl. "I have not yet had my dance with you. You look very dashing and handsome tonight."

Frodo thought Pearl was being a bit generous. He was still bleary from his impromptu nap, he had had rather too much to drink and he was sure he had not got all of the powder out of his clothing. In fact as he thought this a tickle began to rise in his nose again. Frodo pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket for a rather violent sneeze – and scattered broadcast a handful of worms – most of which seemed to find solace in Pearl's bosom. Pearl's scream was ear splitting and seemed to go on forever. Soon they were surrounded by a gaggle of concerned hobbits whilst Pearl clawed as the front of her dress only pausing to give Frodo looks that would probably wither his foot hair for a decade or two.

"You… you… MONSTER!" she finally screeched at him, which he assumed would curtail all his matrimonial prospects in that part of the Shire and ran from the field, her mother and friends in attendance.

Frodo sighed and picked out the last of the worms Pippin had obviously thought to store in his cousin's waistcoat pocket.

Once he had been known as the biggest rascal in all of Buckland. He had a feeling that in a few years time he would quite be put in the shade.

The end


End file.
